Guns and Pineapples
by Kanae Yuna
Summary: Never in his life did Carlton Lassiter imagine that Shawn Spencer would be saving his ass, but right here and right now, that was what the psychic was doing. Shawn has a secret, and he's not about to tell, but Gus is. No pairings


Just a short fanfic about Psych. Honestly, we don't see enough of Shawn's awesome shooting skills, so I decided to create one myself. I have to say, I've probably written better. After all, this took me ten minutes to write. I would really love it if someone critiqued this. ^^

Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own _Psych_.

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**Guns and Pineapples**

Never in his life did Carlton Lassiter imagine that Shawn Spencer would be saving his ass, but right here and right now, that was what the psychic was doing. Not only that, but it seemed as though he was being shown up in every aspect there was of being a detective, and it was gnawing through Carlton's pride.

Several minutes ago, Carlton had been the unfortunate one to follow Shawn into an abandoned warehouse where several mafia members were illegally trafficking firearms. (Gus had decided that his route was more important than chasing after a paradoxical lead.) Not quite a good idea when it was just you and an idiotic man who claims to be psychic. Moments later, Carlton found himself being shoved behind large wooden crates that served well as a shield by Spencer, whose talking just got the mafia members more riled up. Could the damn idiot be any more stupid? Did he really think talking could solve everything?

"Lassie, how are you doing?" came a breathless question as Shawn ducked down behind the crates of God knew what was there. Another rain of bullets went overhead, but Shawn didn't pay it any attention. His brown eyes were glued to a spot on Lassiter's right arm right above his elbow where it had begun to bleed profusely.

"Bullet went straight through," gritted Carlton, "I'll be fine as long as I can get this to stop bleeding, but there's no way I can hold a gun without shaking, let alone shoot with accuracy."

"Where's backup?"

"Should be coming soon…Meanwhile, I've got to figure out how to get those bastards to stop shooting at us!"

A moment pause and a fleeting pained look on Shawn's face later, "Lassie, give me your gun."

"What the hell are you talking about, Spencer? I'm not giving you my gun. You're a civilian, and you'll probably end up shooting me in the leg trying to get the people in front of you."

"Don't be a party pooper, Lassie. This is urgent! Need I remind you, I aced the detective's exam at the age of 15?"

"That and this are completely different!"

"Look, Lassie, I would love to argue about this and make you feel ashamed to wear that detective's badge, but we don't have the time. If you didn't realize, these crates are filled with gunpowder. Granted, they're probably in cases within them, but if these goons don't stop shooting at us, we're going to blow up along with all the evidence that goes with the murder! Now stop being a pussy face and give me your gun!"

"Do you even know how to shoot a gun?"

"No, I'm just going to blindly shoot at people and hope I clip them," Shawn retorted sarcastically, "Or course I know how to use a gun!"

"Do you even know how many people are out there?"

Shawn closed his eyes momentarily, his right hand rising to hover slightly near his temple, "There's three by the door, four right behind us, one hiding behind the pole for some unknown reason, another two hiding behind the black car on the right, three behind the one on the left, and not to mention the two about to creep up on us from the front."

"What?"

Carlton didn't have time to react. The next second, Shawn had somehow wrenched his gun out of his hand and fired twice. The two goons in front of him had fallen to the ground, blood spurting from the pinpoint accuracy of hitting their joints at their elbows, rendering their arms useless and weaponless.

Then, swinging around, Shawn pointed the gun at the mafia members in front and fired twelve times rapidly and consecutively.

"You idiot, Spencer! If you fire that fast, you won't hit anything!" shouted Carlton, pulling himself up to tug on Spencer's arm, thinking of dragging him back down to safety.

When he did, he suddenly realized that the sounds of bullets ricocheting off the walls to try and hit them had stopped. In front of them lay thirteen bodies, all withering in pain and groaning as they grasped their arms.

Each one of them had a bullet through their joints at either their wrist or elbow.

"Let's just hope none of them are ambidextrous like me," grinned Shawn.

"How did…? Wait, there's thirteen of them. You only fired twelve shots!"

"See those two that are collapsed on top of each other? The bullet went through the first one's wrist and into the elbow of the guy behind him. It was a risky shot, but that was the last bullet, so it was either that or get shot."

"Holy hell. This has got to be a dream."

Shawn shrugged and pointed at Carlton's arm, "Does that hurt?"

"Of course it bloody hurts, you moron!"

"Then it's not a dream."

Carlton was going to retort back with a probably-not-so-witty comment when police sirens cut him off. He heard the all so familiar reprimanding shout of Shawn's sidekick, asking his best friend if he was alright and if he did anything stupid again.

"Carlton, are you alright?" asked Juliet, his partner, her sincere eyes resting on his arm, "Let's get you to the paramedics."

"I'm fine. Arrest all these people first," he gritted out. He had a reputation to hold after all, as Head Detective.

She glared at him, as if wanting to protest, but she did nothing of the sort, "I'm surprised. You managed to bring everyone down even with an injured arm. Your skills with the gun weren't all talk then."

Carlton didn't answer, his shame showing clearly on his face.

"Carlton?" Then she noticed that Carlton was unarmed, and the only one that had a gun was a clearly agitated Shawn Spencer who was arguing with Gus, no doubt on the fact that Gus was beyond himself with worry and disbelief that Shawn would do something this dangerous without him, though it was Gus who had refused to tag along.

"You kidding me? Shawn did this?"

"I can't believe it either…He shot each and everyone with such pinpoint accuracy within _seconds_." With Shawn's amazing deductive reasoning and skill with the gun, Carlton loathed admitting that he would be a hell of a detective, despite his childish ways.

"Wow. I definitely underestimated him."

"Gus! Stop being a chocolate-colored hedgehog! I'm fine, aren't I?" came Shawn's exasperated shout.

"That was only because you managed to get a hold of a gun! What if Lassiter wasn't willing to give it to you? Besides, I thought you wouldn't touch a gun again, not after _that_ incident."

"What incident?" asked Carlton, his curiosity tweaked.

"Intrigued, Lassie?" grinned Shawn, cheekily. "Well, that's for me to know, and you to find out."

"Gus?" Juliet turned to the more reasonable out of the two of them.

Instantly, Shawn's smiling face changed and he glared at his best friend, "Don't you dare, Gus! It was enough I had to grab the gun to save our asses."

Juliet and Lassiter looked at each other in surprise. It wasn't everyday that Shawn bristled in anger.

"Your skill is already out in the open! You might as well just tell them! Maybe they'll look the other way."

"I don't want to! Say another word and I'll tell your next girlfriend what you did in Mexico when you consumed one too many tequilas! The word starts with an 's'."

"Don't you dare, Shawn. What happened in Mexico stays in Mexico."

"Would you guys like to tell us what's going on before I bleed to death here?" snapped Carlton. "I would like to know why Spencer is so proficient at using a gun!"

"Do you really want to know?" asked Shawn, almost pleading with him to say no.

"I think we'd all like to know, Shawn," said Juliet.

He frowned, "Well, I'm not telling. I'm going to go check if they got all the goons tied up properly."

"The term is 'handcuffed', Spencer!"

"Whatever…" and Shawn stalked away, clearly upset.

"Gus, what's going on? I've never seen Shawn like this," started Juliet, torn between her curiosity and running after Shawn to comfort him.

"Look, it's nothing too big or anything. Shawn just doesn't like talking about it. See, he has always been a very precise shot. With his dad as an ex-police officer, Shawn was bound to learn some shooting skill one way or another, and he happened to have a talent for it. One competition – I think it was the National Police Shooting…"

"That's impossible," snapped Carlton, "I keep track of the NPS every year for the last decade! I have never heard of Shawn Spencer!"

"Do you recall the name: Sean P. Appletree?"

"Yeah, he was about to win the championships when he suddenly dropped out. Why?"

"His full name was Sean Pine Appletree. Now can you guess who he was?" said Gus, a smile showing upon his face. Shawn was a genius – it was a dead giveaway, and yet no one realized it until the entire name was seen.

"You're kidding me? _He_ _was_ _Spencer_?" choked Carlton. He had been worshipping "Sean Appletree" for years! And he was Shawn all along? God, someone needed to shoot him down right there and right now!

"Why did he pull out? Wasn't he a shoo-in for first place?"

"See, that's where the problem came from. He found out what their targets were for the last and final round, and he just couldn't bear with it. He resigned the next day and vowed to never pick up a gun again. I think, he actually did hit the targets on accident and was so horrified that he was scarred for life, but I don't really know. Shawn's pretty good at keeping secrets when necessary."

"Do you know what the targets were?" asked O'Hara, itching to know what had shaken up the overly confident psychic.

"I don't think you really want to know," Gus responded.

"I think we do," snarled Carlton, "Now 'fess up, Burton, before I decide to arrest you."

"On what grounds?"

"For being an accessory to a pain in the ass!"

"Carlton! Gus won't get anywhere if you keep cutting him short!"

"Exactly. Thank you, Juliet."

"What were the targets?" yelled Carlton, his face shoved into Gus's personal space, his anger lashing out at the poor man.

"Pineapples!" Gus shouted back, an immediate reaction to Carlton's hostility.

A stunned silence fell between the three friends.

"Pineapples…really?" questioned Juliet. She knew about Shawn's love of the fruit, but to swear off even touching a gun, for just the notion of shooting one? It was honestly beyond her.

"Pineapples," Gus confirmed.

Carlton groaned. "I'm going to kill him…Pineapples? Really?" Someone _really _needed to shoot him now.

Juliet sighed. Why were they so surprised? They definitely should have expected this, "Come on, Carlton. Let's get you to the paramedics."

Lassiter only nodded dumbly and let himself be led to the ambulances, his mind shutting down in absolute shame.

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Gus watched them leave for a few minutes, and then held out a fist, seemingly out of no where. He felt someone else fist pump him and he didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Did they buy it?" asked Shawn, standing casually next to his best friend staring after Lassie and Jules.

"Yeah, they bought it. I can't believe they would believe such a dumb lie. Honestly? Pineapples? When have pineapples ever been used as targets?"

Shawn just chuckled, "They still believed it."

"Don't you ever make me cover for you like that again, Shawn. Did you see how Lassiter was all over my face?" Gus's usual anger resurfacing.

"You know you will, bud."

"I swear this is the last time, Shawn!"

"That's what you said when we were five, Gus."

"Shawn! I mean it!"

"Look, man. I doubt they'll be asking more questions about my skills with the gun. Lassie was so dumbstruck finding out that I was Sean P. Appletree. No doubt he worshipped me for a while."

Gus snorted, "Just wait until he finds out that you actually missed the championships to go to a drinking contest with pineapple margaritas."

"Now, now, Gus. You said so yourself. What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico, my awesome stripper friend."

"Shawn! I'm going to kill you!"

Shawn just laughed, "Come on, let's go celebrate solving the case with some pineapple smoothies."

Gus hesitated and then saw Shawn hold out his fist. He couldn't help but smile.

"I hear that," and returned the gesture. "By the way, how did you know Lassiter would react like that?"

Shawn smirked, "Didn't you know? I'm psychic."

**The End.

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Hope you guys enjoyed this! It was really short and honestly, I'm not good at writing short things. I love making these extremely elaborate and wordy. That's more of my style, but I do love Shawn and there's no way I could come up with an extravagant plot with the limited time I have.

Anyway, read and review please! ^^

~ Kanae Yuna ~


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